Rain Down
by Ivydoll
Summary: Complete. LoganKurt. Their awareness of one another is tangible. Little things stand out brilliantly, but for these two, a little push is needed to make things happen.
1. One

**(KAI)** So. L/K. Again.  
**This is for Timoteo.** I **heart** you.  
This may or may not be a trend...  
But like WIM (Bakura/Ryou), this story is **ShorT ChapterS OuT OF ControL**. (c)  
Sah...  
Gad, don't mind me.

---

**Rain Down**

---

Kurt watched with sleepy, half-open eyes. His reflection watched him back with sleepy, half-open eyes; gold. Then he reached up and pulled his hair, tugging it behind his ear. Pointy. And the rain beat so steadily, soothing; Kurt leaned his forehead against the glass, curled on the window seat like a cat. His tail wrapped around his cold, sockless, feet, but provided nothing. And he sighed, pursed his lips. Boredom. The storm outside ignored him, struck lightning flashily, and occasionally rumbled contentedly.

The mutant in blue could not sleep, and could not close his eyes, and was not tired, but exhausted, and he sighed, worrying at his bottom lip in agitation. Something was bothering him, something important, but what? His heart sped. It should have been nothing, it should have been nothing at all.

But he bit his lip the harder as his memories wavered and touched at his mind mercilessly. _No, elf, like this_.

He rubbed his arms where the strong hands had glid. And there they had stayed, brought his arms up, leveled them. _One under, the other over, or, in, sort of._

Blushing. Again, the boy pressed his forehead into his knees and hid his face, anxious excitement bubbling into his chest. Logan's hands had steadied on his, and they had pointed the gun at the center target, gently squeezing the trigger point, and firing. Off by four inches. And Kurt's face had been so red, so red, red, red. He disappeared.

And when he reappeared, he cried and cried and cried and no, he wouldn't say why, Rogue, and leave him alone, Kitty, and _no, Scott..._

Logan was gone. Before the storm had come, when the grey had still been making its slow way across the twilit sky, Kurt had watched with large, watery golden eyes, a man swagger from the garages, mount a Harley, and gun away. He had cried a bit more after that, and was glad that no one bothered him this time, because he was Kurt Wagner, and Kurt Wagner was not a crybaby.

Misery welled in him again, and his tail flicked without his permission. Why had Logan left? Was he mad? Upset? (Was he ever _not_ mad or upset?) Tail flicked again, and this time, Kurt grabbed it, held it in long, pale fingers, and worried the tip as well as his lips. _Come back, come back, come back..._

He was sorry. He regretted what he had done and thought to how uncomfortable it must have made his instructor feel to have his student vanish in the middle of target practice. What had Scott and Jean done? What did Logan do after?

Clearly he had gone. Kurt winced, regret and self-pity washing over him like a salt-bath.

He felt so unlike himself. Like so much had changed, but what really had? He focused on his reflection, willing himself to be recognized. His eyes were puffy from crying, and his chest was sore from not knowing why. Logan's chest had been so broad and strong. So hot.

And there was the anxiety.


	2. Two

**(KAI)** Yeah, like I could ever draw an IC Logan.  
Fuck you, Wolverine.  
And your little personality quirks.

---

**Chapter Two**

---

He lit another. The first two had done nothing. Slow, slow drag, he tried, and he tried, and finally, his nerves began to unbunch.

"Stupid kid," he muttered, raking one hand up, through short, tangled hair. Now here was a concern; this kid, this stupid, dumbass kid with the soft hair and lean body. Sweet smiles and easy laughter. Beautiful eyes, provocative and unaware little swish of the hips as he walked. A growl, and a plume of smoke, and Logan leaned across the handlebars of the bike wearily.

Over, the river flew along quietly, occasionally choked by a floating tree or piece of junk, and was as black as night. The drive of rain the slammed against the surface provided a heady static, a white noise in the darkness that carried the older mutant far away, and left him feeling a bit cleaner for such thoughts. The cigarette smoldered even while he held one hand against the rain for it, and when it sizzled down to grey, ephemeral smoke, he kicked the bike down and gave the engine a buzz of life.

The roads were dark under the glaze of light at the front of Wolverine's motorcycle, but he sped easily enough along.

---

Kurt had finally fell. Had fallen quietly, without noticing, and did not notice the cold of the window as he slept. He had curled into himself, frowning and face smudged with little tears.

The rain fell into his dreams wetly, and he drowned in dark images, and cold, cold whispers of pain. A scene of Logan riding, water and dark clouds flanking him as the tires spun across flooded cement. Metal twisting, the bike going under, Wolverine flipping, helpless. His claws flash, red pools, flows, and Kurt tried to leave, to 'bamf', to escape. He doesn't want to see.

Doesn't want to see.

---

The garage opened with a groan and a considerable amount of strain, despite its high technology. The downpour continued on as Logan parked and closed. Perchance, he glanced up, saw a small silhouette in a lighted window. He narrowed dark eyes. It was nigh on two in the morning, and that was a student wing he saw lit and awake. Something would have to be said, at the least, though he cared little of the kids chose to night owl.

It was probably the hand of fate.

---

Inside, Kurt heard the ambulance come, rickety and screaming, and the thud of the feet that ran. Paramedics. He was crying again, crybaby Wagner. He laughed and it seemed hysterical. _Thud, thud, thud_, it was probably his heart. He moaned and screamed aloud, let it burst, let is burst right out of him. And then rain washed it down, so that even when Logan burst in, it was dreamscaped, and Kurt saw nothing more than the ghost of a dream.

He gibbered wildly in German for a moment, clawing and frightened, like a cat gone terrored, and Logan growled back and made it worse, though he did not want to. The younger mutant let in a gasping breath as the geist held him down on the window seat, one knee aside his hip and face so close he could taste the bitter smoke on his tongue.

"Kurt," Logan said darkly, jerking him a bit, and finding it swapped the back of the boy's head against the thick cushion almost painfully. The teen blinked huge, wet eyes at Logan's clear, unmangled face.

"You..." he struggled, "You..."

Logan watched in awe as the pretty golden eyes filled glassy with wetness like rain, and as tears slid hot down slim cheeks. "You are okay."

That relieved sigh put a knife in Logan's gut, and the smile that went with it, twisted and twisted it coldly, like affection and soft skin.


	3. Three

**(KAI)** Well, this has definitely been one of the weaker ones.  
It seems as though I finished it for the sake of getting it done with, eh?  
Still, all well that ends... at all.  
Which means it's time to go back to WIM.  
Ah, _cest le vie_, thank you for coming this far with me.  
Ah.

---

**Chapter Three  
**  
---

The rain came down in the silence, permeated the room, and left them alone, together, hot and coldening. A shudder ran through Kurt's spine, and he wriggled from underneath with embarrassment. "I- I apologize," he said lightly, his tail flicking in agitation.

"What for?" the growl was low in the back of Logan's throat, softer than it needed to be. Softer for the thin arms holding each of Kurt's elbows closely to him, for the averted golden eyes.

"I..." the younger mutant's intuition struck, lightning in a storm like, "should have turned out my light. It's past curfew."

Slickery rain went down the window's panes, hit the glass like quietude, and Logan's fists curled and uncurled in overtired frustration. There was no reason for him to stand there; eyeing the teenager with whatever hunger had been gnawing at him for all this time. No reason to have come, save to see the boy in a state of shamed weakness, and even now uncomfortable and afraid. He had run away earlier... so indeed, what was he afraid of?

Again, Kurt went into the other man's thoughts and said, "I am sorry for, ah, freaking out today Herr Logan. I won't do it again..."

It was eerie. Logan slumped into the window seat, Kurt mirroring on the unslept bed. "Next thing, you'll be finishing my sentences," the man huffed under his breath, reaching into his back pocket for a cigarette.

There was no reason for him to be there.

Kurt curled up his legs, as though putting up a barrier, and prepared to be patient. Still, his heart thud against his ribs with force and clatter, and he almost shivered with strange anticipations. The rain down outside went harder and softer and the wind went behind Logan with howling voices, but he did not move. He smoked and he did not meet Kurt's eyes. "Herr Sir, I dreamt you died."

Logan coughed as he exhaled, "So have I."

"I thought I would die, too."

There was no reason for the skipping heart beat, the gentle sway of softness as Kurt lay his head on his knee, closed his eyes, and seemed almost sleeping. "Why?"

"Eh?" Logan strained his ear, as though the whisper had not been so lost in the space between them.

"Why does it... When it rains... You leave."

"Sometimes."

"What if you never came back?" Kurt's tail curled tightly around his shins, drawing them closer to his chest. "I might die, too."

Logan inhaled deeply, and perturbed at this line of thought the boy had developed. "Why would you die, elf?"

"It was my fault you left tonight. If you had never returned, I would be to blame," as suddenly as the thunder came rolling finally across the hills, little iridescent tears came pouring from the corners of Kurt's half-closed eyes. "Crybaby Wagner," he taunted himself in a soft whisper.

"Bull," Logan said, exhaling around the harsh word, "If I died, it was the rain. It was me- probably being stupid." He tried to smile, tried to look relaxed to alleviate the child, but there was a uselessness in being far away. Slowly, he stood.

"You are leaving?" Kurt said, embarrassment gently filling his senses, and turning his cheeks reddened. "Thank you for coming to wake me."

Logan stooped in front of the boy half-heartedly, stubbing the cigarette on the back of his hand. Nonplussed, Kurt watched the skin smolder and then heal. "You shouldn't do that often," he admonished, heart quickening in its pace and making him dizzy.

"Why," the teacher began, laying his hands on either side of the boy, resting his palms on the blankets for balance, "do you worry?"

"About you?"

"Yes," Logan said, his patience thinning as the boy's small shoulders came together in a small shrug, as his neckline plunged and resurfaced in the over-sized t-shirt.

"I think I'm in love with you," the boy hid his face, drawing his body tighter for any negative repercussions the confession may have held. "Maybe, since you're so warm, and sometimes, I feel like you care about me," came the muffled voice, "I'm really sorry."

"Stupid kid," Logan groaned, reaching out to pet down the disheveled hair.

The shoulders shook, and the teacher's heart skipped entirely. One beat, two. His throat clenched together, and he brought his lips in one thin line of discontentment, "I can't..."

Those fingers clenched on little knees, "I can't understand why, Kurt."

"I promise not to do anything funny," the boy murmured, as though another person, "I won't act up or be weird, just please don't hate me."

"Hate you?" a bark of a laugh, "Hate?"

Kurt looked up dejectedly, a frown pouting on his lips, "Please don't..."

There was no reason for him to stay.

There was no reason for him to talk.

There was no reason for him to reach around and pull the child forward, off the bed and onto the floor with him; no need to unabashedly hold him against his chest like a doll, or cradle his soft hair greedily. No need to make the boy look up at him, and to twitch his lips in a smile. Confused and heartbroken, Kurt only laid his head on the older man's chest, convinced it was a dream, now, and miserable.

"I love you, I love you," he whispered, shaking his head, his hands folded in his lap, where he sat in the circle of Dream-Logan's legs. "So much."

"I love you, too, kid," Logan responded, disbelief at the situation forcing a deep chuckle burbling up and out, and the thunder echoed across and Kurt let out a soft sigh. "When I wake up, it won't be true anymore."

Logan kissed him; let his lips rest against the soft, tear-swollen boy's, and did not close his eyes though Kurt began to. And Kurt's eyes shifted to the window nearby, where the raining was reaching its catharsis. He felt empty, too. Surreal and lovely.

"You love me, Herr Logan?" said so softly, the rain down almost drowned them.

"Yeah," he said, kissing him again as proving. The boy's tail curled around Logan's arm and those arms tightened around, bringing a gasp from the boy in moments.

And the rain came down, down, down until it stopped.


End file.
